"My and Mitch’s relationship was entangled with so much mess rumbling beneath a tidy surface. It was almost as if, unless he and I were going through some kind of strife, we had nothing.

I cared nothing about his comings or goings and he would yell out about having to come and go. For some reason, that whole thing seemed like the thing to do-for the both of us. It was like negative-reinforcement and I too was guilty: I didn’t have it in me to give or get any spice in or out the bedroom unless I was literally mind-fucking him and sometimes, him-me.

Sure, we could play house and be civil; behaving like two people in a relationship who lived together and had respect for their relationship only after breaking up to make up from some kind of strife involved.

Routinely, we would start dating all over again, talking all over again and liking each other (as a couple), all over again.
Sure (whenever he worked) he would write his whole work schedule for the week and tape it to the fridge, all over again.

He would be back to turning over his entire check to me; allowing me to ration it out to him and whatever we needed for the household.
When he went out to play basketball, he would start back taping notes to the fridge so that when I got back in, I could know where to find him.

He would be back to being in the house for the evening before I left for work at 8p and home throughout the night; house cleaned and spotless, having cooked if I did not have the time too-same routine, all over again.

Sure, it would be sweet, golden and new, although we both knew we had been there done that-and this cycle of things would be bound to happen all over again. As if we hadn’t been-there-done-that, we were so enamored with these repeated steps in the relationship-the playing house and such. It was slowly becoming some unspoken weird addiction that we both were becoming used to-like the routine of it all was apart of the relationship itself-like some healthy and necessary repeated steps for the growth of a healthy relationship; when in truth, it was built on weeds, convenience and familiarity beneath all.

After the strife came the sweetness. It was the fuel for our fire and desire. Rick and Tina should have been our names, but not before we turned into Ike and Tina…

Mitch was getting so beside himself into the relationship-I guess he was feeling good thinking that he had some upper hand because these maggots out here were telling him how cute he was. We had already been through a couple things with some crazy girls and I guess that pumped him. In his mind, he had my mind-since there was no more Remedy. Throughout all his bullshit, I was regretting that I even told him about Remedy be gone-for good. But it was Mitch who was actually sleeping-especially where I was concerned. And he would soon find out I guess at some point when he slowed down and took a breather from his newfound popularity and cuteness from all the hanging out-sharp dressed-from all the check-kiting schemes he and his buddies had going. He was spiraling out of control; thinking that the things he was doing for me and putting into the house would be sufficient a substitute for not working a real job-all the while I worked hard and kept mine. The difference between Mitch and me was that I knew how to work hard and play hard, too. He only knew how to play hard. And in the end, he ended up playing himself.

Mitch was sneaking around with other girls.

At one point, he was seeing some girl who would give him money all the time.

He was running through holding down jobs like tennis rackets, and if it wasn’t for my nagging him about getting one; he wouldn’t have worked at all.

The times that he did work, it would only be because he did not want to look like a total loser in my eyes. The lazier he got, the more the check-kiting schemes picked up. And after a while of being fed all the “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” about his good looks, he started actually getting paid on that alone-which was really pumping him up.

At this point into Mitch’s mess, I didn’t even give a damn. As long as he contributed to the household-I did not care. His worse nightmare had come true and he didn’t even notice: that dreaded friend/roommate status-the one that he (at one time) “would be damned” that I reduced him too. He had damned himself-and didn’t even notice.

From the outside in-it could easily looked as though I was pimping him out. He didn’t notice that either. I began to treat him more like an agent and business partner than an adorer and his woman. He was too busy being trifling to notice that too-yet, he thought he was running game on me, the world and other girls, all from being told he was cute-one time too many.

The girl who was giving him the most money was had offered to take him to dinner and out to a concert one night-it was me that helped him get dressed and even allowed her to pick him up from “my” house (now)…

She thought she was big pimping and getting her ego inflated because she knew that she was picking him up and dropping him off at his girlfriend’s house. She had never seen me, and I had never seen her.
I knew that she was an overweight girl who lived in a prominent part of town with her rich parents (said my client: Mitch). Her parents probably spoiled her to death because she was a fatty (said Mitch’s agent: Me).

I’m a woman and I know how women think. Considering the part of town Mitch and I lived in, I know that she probably thought that if his fine ass was dating her (well-to-do ass), that I was probably some big fat, nappy-head welfare broad, sitting in the house on the couch watching soap-operas all day and drinking forty ounces and smoking weed all night. But she was badly mistaken. From the stories Mitch would tell me, she was quite fly at the mouth and thought she was balling out of control: fucking some broad’s man who (she thought) was probably getting used (just like he was using her). She had the game all twisted and she was badly mistaken-twice. She thought she was playing me, but it me was who was playing her and as long as I never let her see me-the show could go on. I never wanted to blow his cover by making myself be seen, because I knew that if she saw me, in comparison his description of her; she would know (for sure) that Mitch was using her-and in (literal) deed he was.

Correction: we were.
We were using her ass.
He cut the heart, she cut the check.
Me: Agent.
She: Adorer.
If my roommate slash homie slash lover slash friend wanted to pay for his room and board-he knew what he had to do -even though he thought he was merely out here running game.

The night of the concert, she brought his trifling ass home, pissy-drunk.

When I heard them pull up in that cute little pretty car with the quiet engine, I did what I would always do when she would come by to: pick up my man…and leave with my man…and bring my man back-I stood at the balcony screen door at just enough distance where, from her view, she could not see me. But from my view, I could see her: stuffed in that car looking as though the daily routine to get in it, was to have mom and dad stuff her there and then kick her with their feet-kind of like how you would stuff bags of clothes in a storage closet-repeatedly stepping down on them until those shits fit in. In my mind, I could clearly see them stuffing her big ass in that petite car she was driving. She looked like a big ass baby-a life-sized Baby Alive Doll.
Normally I would have looked at a girl like her and said: “bless her heart” but considering the circumstances from which she was in my view: fuck her heart.

I stood back watching her twist herself to get out of the little car.
It was a sight to see. She was drunk and tall ass hell too; stumbling even before going to the other side to pull Mitch’s drunk ass out to help him across the street to the house. It took them forever-they both looked a drunk mess.

She got that clown up to the porch and rang the doorbell as if she was delivering goodies-except, she ran to get back into her little car. I wasn’t going to miss her stuff herself back into the car for nothing in the world.

I let his drunk ass stand, sit, kneel or whatever position she left him in, until I could watch her walk back to her car to see just how she actually got her big, tall body back into that little bitty car. I was dying to see this all goes down.

She was twisting, turning and wiggling her way in-all the while, I was standing back in the dark at the balcony screen door; kicking my right foot back and forth in the air, as if I was stuffing bags into a tight storage closet. I was laughing my ass off.

When she maneuvered herself into the car and put on her seat belt to drive off, I ran down the steps, turned the porch light on and opened to door to Mitch’s drunk ass standing there leaning up against the door hinges looking all red and leathery.
I slapped his face:
“You can snap out of it, ‘cause I’m not picking your big ass up or pulling you up by the hip to help you at all. You got like ten steps to climb you big ‘ole pimp you. Let’s make it! Get in here just enough so I can shut and lock my damned door!” I yelled-like he was old useless cattle to a farmer.

He stepped into the small foyer and sat on the steps.

I slammed my door, locked it and stepped over him; running up the steps-having no idea what it felt like to be pissy drunk.

When he finally made it up the steps, all he had to do was make a left turn and he would be right into our bedroom. I mean: “my” bedroom.
I sat there and watched television while eating a bowl of cereal.

He made it. I looked to my right-he made it.
I looked over at him and shook my head:
“Mitch, I refuse to get up out of this bed to help you even a few feet over here. No one told you to let BigBaby get you all sloppy drunk like that. You have been gone for a long stretch of time, too. That was the longest dinner and concert I ever heard tell of,” I said.

He didn’t hear a word I said.
Instead, he yawned, swallowed and tightened his jowls like Elmer Fudd.
He finally made it over then lay across the bed-looking all luscious with those shiny thick locks of curls-those shiny thick eyebrows and those long silky eyelashes.
I stared down at his sexy ass:
“These whores love them-some you don’t they?” I said, while getting him undressed for bed.

He liked to sleep naked. So as I undressed him, when I got down to his underwear to pull them down, his penis was laying there placid with the condom still on-nut all in it. I pulled his underwear right back up and left them on-for him to sleep in.

He was so drunk that he didn’t even notice.
I looked at him, and it-and shook my head because there was no use screaming and arguing with him; he was too drunk to even know that he was in the condition he was in.

“You pitiful motherfucker you, I wonder what your mother would say right now, seeing you lying here looking trifling, and living trifling like the way you are: running check kiting schemes and running around with whores like you’re on some pimp-type shit. Your mammy had the nerve to show my cute ass to the door like you were some fucking Prince of a Peninsula-like she was in charge of arranging a woman for you and I wasn’t worthy. Now, look at you-and fuck her! You were trifling before you met me. We aren’t even on each others level!”

I rolled my eyes tightly, then reached for his pants to check his pockets: jackpot. He had a wad of about three-hundred dollars. Having only left the house with about fifty dollars, I knew that he at least worked his charm and BigBaby worked him too.
I looked at him pitifully and said to him:
“What happened to the days of it merely taking a cute guy like you to flash that Colgate smile and pinch a BigBaby like her, on the side and tell her she was cute-being enough? She climbed all on top of you and did her business. You played yourself-and she threw you back home and on the porch; too drunk to even notice. I can’t wait until you sober up from this! Where is your mother now!” I laughed and rolled my eyes.

I opened my nightstand and dropped the money inside and got under the covers to go to sleep.

I left the condom on him so that when he sobered up; he could see it and wonder if I saw it too.

This test would tell me one of two things: either how dumb but slick he thought he was, or honest and smart he was.

I could not wait to see how this was going to play out.

Morning came.
I could feel him moving about and about to wake up. I lay there on my left side with my back turned to him; sleeping lightly. I immediately opened my eyes. I could feel him finally waking up. He sat up on his elbows-really quick.
I turned around and lay on my back-still sleepy eyed but eyes shut wide.
He lifted the covers and stuck his right hand in his underwear then hopped out of the bed like his ass was on fire.

He quickly ran into the bathroom and cut on the sink water before he even had a chance to piss-I guess he must’ve thought I would hear him slide the condom off. Five minutes later, he returned to the bedroom and got under the covers.

I know he wanted so bad to hop in that shower but never in the history of us living together did he take a shower at 6am, so, at least he was smart enough to play that part of the test off.

“I will deal with him in the morning-when the sun would rise and shine,” I said to myself as I lay there-again on my left side-back facing him; pretending to be asleep-eyes wide shut…

Shine and rise.
I rise-ready for my leverage over him.

I headed to the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth.

“Good morning,” I said-jovially-as I walked back into the bedroom.

“Good morning baby,” he replied-laying back on the fluffy pillows but still under the covers.

I wanted to allow him some time to think about what his next move would be, so, I went into the kitchen to pour myself a bowl of cereal.

I came back into the bedroom with it. I sat down on the bed:

“So, how was the concert?” I asked.

“It was alright” he answered-slowly and carefully.

I kept eating the cereal while watching television.

I looked over at him-sitting there looking awkward.

He was scared as hell.

“Why are you looking all crazy Mitch?” I asked, as if I knew nothing. It was confusing him. He refused to be, so, he replied:

“Because I know that you know, Angie!” he answered-forcefully.

“Know what?” I asked, as if I knew nothing.

“I know that you saw that condom on my dick. I know that you undressed me because I woke up with my drawls on,” he laughed, some.

I laughed out loud.

“Yeah, you’re exactly right, I saw it. BigBaby got some of that thang last night didn’t she?” I said, shaking my head.

“Angie, I guess she did. And I don’t even remember,” he confessed, looking like he felt raped.

“So why are you still in my bed having known now that BigBaby screwed your drunk ass last night?” I asked.

“I was about take a shower this morning but I knew that you would have gotten suspicious and since I had my drawls on while in the bed, I already knew that you had seen it already, so…” he paused and shrugged his shoulders.

I kept shaking my head at him.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked-gently, reaching over to touch my shoulders and rubbing down my arms.

“Don’t touch me,” I shrugged him off of me.

“I’m about to take a shower, Mitch. Change my sheets by the time I get out will you?” I asked.

“You act like it happened here,” he said.
I turned to look back at him and gave him the evil eye.

“Alright-alright, I will,” he replied.”

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